


Baby Blue

by AbaddonsDaughter (Krekta)



Category: Loki - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Baby!Loki, Child Abandonment, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Gen, Infanticide, Parents Arguing, Parents in Mourning, Possible PTSD?, Royal Marriages, kid!Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krekta/pseuds/AbaddonsDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odin’s act of compassion (or astute political tactics?) doesn’t go down at all well with Frigga when he comes home from the war on Jotunheim with a squirming bundle of blue flesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Blue

Frigga was waiting for him when they returned from Jotunheim. Frigga: his wife, his Queen, his young son’s mother, his everything. She was wrapped in her newest wolf-pelt coat; beneath he could spy her silk slippers and the hem of her silver nightdress, the one he had gifted her for their recent anniversary. In a way it was shocking, that the Queen of Asgard should be dressed so, outside of her boudoir, but Odin found it endearing. she had obviously heard the news of their return and had come rushing out to greet him without pause to do more than grab her coat. 

His arms were full of the soft-scented woman almost before he had chance to hand off some of his accoutrements to his companions to make space for her. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears of relief and joy at his safe return. Exhausted though he was, Odin hoisted her high, so that her delicate feet would no longer be in touch with the coolness of the rainbow bridge of the Bifrost. His friend, Heimdall, ever-watchful gate-keeper and guardian of their Kingdom, grinned and nodded. He liked the young Vanir woman who had brought happiness to his dour King’s heart.

~~~L~~~

Despite it being the middle of the night, many of Asgard’s women had turned out, like their Queen, to welcome back their warrior husbands and elder sons. The way into the capitol was lined with excited and relieved females, all bouncing and jostling in an effort to catch sight of their loved ones. Though his own wife was now perched on his lap as they rode back toward their palace-home, Odin’s heart was made heavy by the sight of these delicate flowers of Asgardian womanhood, for many of them would discover that the man they were seeking amidst the parade of battle-weary, bruised and scarred faces was not there. The war on Jotunheim had been hard won, and many of the brave men of Asgard had met their deaths in that icy land.

~~~L~~~

Once they were in their private apartment, Frigga set about removing and storing Odin’s armour, whilst servants brought in and stowed his campaign furnishings and various other bundles and parcels. When the staff had retreated, Odin spun to fetch one of the parcels which had, oddly, been left on their bed. fetching it with him as they drew close to the fireside to take supper.  
“What do you have there, husband?” Frigga was curious. Odin sometimes would fetch her gifts from his campaigns, treasures claimed as trophies after the defeat of his enemies.  
“A miracle.” Odin said, with awe in his voice, so thrilled was he to be able to bring this precious prize out of frozen wastelands, out of bleak violence of the war. 

Frigga had been so sad when she realised she could bear no more children, after Thor’s birth taxed her so; and then their daughter had been born still and silent after him. When he had seen, when the marvel had caught his one eye, he had been astonished. On the tiles of some heathen temple had lain their precious reward, their blessing.

“We said. . . we spoke of this, of how we wanted more children, after Thor…” Odin plucked at the string binding the bundle together, letting the edges of the swaddling cloth fall away. He held out the tiny living thing, pressing it to Frigga’s chest. “Say hello to our new baby boy, darling.”

Frigga’s hand flew to her mouth. No sound came with the gesture, but she swallowed repeatedly, suppressing her desire to vomit, before finding her voice again. Her eyes flicked from the disgusting little creature, wriggling in the coarse shawl, to the face of her husband and back until she had worked out what to say next.  
“It is an animal, not a baby!”  
Frigga was yelling. Why was she yelling? The child needed a mother, and Frigga had needed a child after little Inger had passed. Frigga seemed not to want his gift, though? Why was she so angry with him? 

“ Look at it, you idiot!”  
“He, dearest, he is a babe. . . of the Jotun.”  
“It is a monster! It’s skin is freezing! Look at it’s teeth! How does a babe have such sharp fangs so young? And dear ancestors, the colour of it’s eyes! It is not meant to be!”  
“They all look like him, sweetest, though he is far smaller than is usual.”  
“What? You bring one of their whelps home with you? Is it to be a pet then? A prisoner?”  
“He is to be our son.”  
“No, I will not let it be! I will not have you harbour it amongst us. It will grow and then the beast will murder us all in our beds!”  
“I do not think he will grow that much. . . his people put him out to die because of his tiny size. . .”  
“Then you should have left it lying carrion! If even those ignorant beasts reject it what place does it have on our world? Let alone in our very home?”

“He is of their royal family.”  
Frigga struggled to comprehend her husband’s words. Had he encountered some sorcerer, that his mind was so addled as to see this foul bag of skin as a child?  
“They are brutes, how can they possibly have a royal family? This is not a Prince, this is a thing, a cold lump of animal flesh! Better to give it to the cooks than to me! Though meat is usually poisonous when it is blue!”  
“It is how they are coloured, my love. . .” If the child’s appearance was off-putting to her, that could be fixed. Odin murmured the few words needed, making a small gesture, and the boy’s true appearance was gone, replaced with a veneer of pale pink skin and pleasingly rosy cheeks and. . . yes, he could give his new son green eyes, like his own father had sported. . .  
“Odin, this is not reasonable of you! What were you thinking, beloved?”

The child grabbed at his thumb as he pushed back the coarse blanket he had fetched it from Jotunheim in. It tried to sink it’s tiny teeth into him, causing Odin much mirth. “He is hungry, my love.” He tried again to press the boy to Frigga’s breast. She shoved the little one back at him, not gently.

“It can go suck on a goat then! Or find a serpent to nurture it if you must! “  
“But. . . You have milk still, from Inger, do you not?”  
“Oh no! Oh Odin Borson I will not! This is ridiculous! Throw it in the fire, I beg you! Stop this jesting right now, I cannot stand it!”  
“Our son is starving.” Odin’s tone changed now, the better to bring his wife in line with his wishes. “ If you cannot feed him, I forgive you. Perhaps one of the handmaidens . . .”  
“I cannot ask one of my maidens to feed it! . . . Do they even take milk anyway? It could be more poison to it than comfort.”  
“Frigga, be silent! Our new son needs to feed. When he has fed we shall coddle him. You are right that he seems chilled; he will sleep in our bed tonight, that he may be warm.”

Frigga was sobbing now, but Odin was done with her fretfulness. Inger had gone, but here now was another son for them, who would grow fine and tall and honourable and wise. He stook his head out of the door to their apartment and yelled for someone to fetch warmed milk, or a thin broth, suitable for feeding a Princeling.

Thor tottered out of his room and into his parent’s room, roused by Odin’s shouting. There, lying on the embroidered bed-covering a baby kicked. He toddled to the edge of the mattress to look at it. Odin’s first son broke into a grin and tried to reach for the quiet little creature. He managed to grab a few strands of it’s pitch-black hair and it squealed a little, though really it was too weak to make much fuss. The Crown Prince’s delight at the baby prevented him from seeing the tears cascading from his Mummy’s eyes, or the angry set of his beloved Papa’s shoulders.

This, then, is how Loki the Runt, the mistake born of King Laufey of Jotunheim, became an Odinson.

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't hate Frigga. This is how I think a woman might react when her husband brings an alien baby back from a war while they are both still mourning a lost child of their own.
> 
> There is no canon reference for Inger Odinsdottir, she is an invention of my own. Inger means 'Beautiful Goddess' in Old Norse, I believe. In this story she was born after Thor and before Odin brought Loki home, but died shortly after her birth, rendering Frigga unable to bear any more children of her own.
> 
>  
> 
> This story is dedicated, with much love, to my Goddess-Daughter, Lucy. Blessed Be, sweetheart.


End file.
